Temporary Culture Shock
by kasugai gummie
Summary: [FujiRyo, others] 'He arrived as a nameless transfer student, in possession of nothing but three junior tennis championship titles, a Himalayan spotted cat, three cans of Grape Fanta in his carryon duffel, and various other excess baggage...'


**Disclaimer**: I claim no ownership over Konomi's genius nor Anipuri's Thrill Pair closure-less ending.

**Warning**: BL themes (FujiRyo main, one-sided KeviRyo, others undecided), post-series speculation, odd and unrealistic situations.

**Author's Notes**: Here's my (possibly) final tribute to the Thrill Pair fandom at long last. I have absolutely no idea how long this piece is going to span, but the plot bunny from which this spawned is of the "epic" breed. No wonder, since the goal is to provide some closure to the FujiRyo aspect of AniPuri, something which the animators neglected to do and as a result, left the match which gave the pairing its name unfinished. God forbid that we allow all the corresponding UST to go to waste.

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**Temporary Culture Shock - Prologue**  
by kasugai gummie

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He was twelve when he left the United States for some strange country across the ocean. He arrived as a nameless transfer student, in possession of nothing but three junior tennis championship titles, a Himalayan spotted cat, three cans of Grape Fanta in his carryon duffel, and various other excess baggage (of which included an old man he grudgingly called his father).

The land was different; the culture was odder (they had vending machines for _everything_), the food was better (he developed a liking for nori almost immediately), and the people were a hell of a lot stranger (he certainly didn't remember seeing any bleached cross dressers strutting the streets of San Francisco).

It wasn't long before he found himself wandering into the lives of a peculiar group of people like a runaway semi on the German Autobahn—and being so determinedly caught up in his own little world, didn't notice the commotion his rather explosive arrival created until much later.

Whenever "later" was.

He supposed he was grateful (at a subconscious level) that the odd assortment of characters at Seishun Gakuen simply took his arrival astride, without much of a whimper. An audible whimper in any case. Or it may have just been his fine-tuned selective hearing at work.

Oh well.

His original intentions was to use the different styles presented to him and stack them atop each other—rather like a stairwell to the throne in the sky where his father was sprawled in all his lazy-assed, porno-loving glory. His conquest of Japan's junior high tennis scene kicked off without a hitch and all too quickly he settled in a predictable cycle of being challenged by some stranger who had the gall to underestimate him, gauging the depth of the unsuspecting idiot's prowess, then wiping the courts with their presumptuous ego.

This phase lasted an entirety of about one week.

He soon found himself being drawn to two people in particular, despite being surrounded by a myriad of other styles and other characters . There was the captain whose skill made him more than a mere obstacle to overcome, and the prodigy whose talent was secreted away from the outsider's eye like a inside joke. He found out hard and fast that some people just weren't so easily discarded and ignored.

The captain of the Seigaku team wanted an ideal, a goal to aspire to, out of him. Tezuka wanted a pillar worthy of Seigaku and it was Tezuka whom he held in respect almost immediately. The charisma, responsibility, and raw power the other possessed demanded it after all.

The prodigy on the other hand... what Fuji wanted and what Fuji represented... well, all that could be said was that he was never able to make any sense of the amused blue eyes and intense, unholy interest focused his way while he was supposed to be unaware. Fuji he held in annoyance, caution, and after finally experiencing the prodigy's fickle style one rainy day, no little fascination.

In fact, Seigaku's students were all a hell of a lot stranger than what he was used to. Fuji in particular.

But regardless of the oddities (such as inedible juices and some guy called Horio), he found himself belonging. He found himself settled. And that was all that really mattered.

He was twelve, going onto thirteen, when he left Japan to return to the States.

The impact of his departure acted as much of a shock as did his arrival. Sudden, unexpected, maybe even unwarranted. But everyone managed to deal to the best of their abilities.

Momoshirou-senpai, he would remember with a fond smirk, cried. And Taka-san ended up giving him soy sauce as a parting gift. A few others though, namely Seigaku's fair-haired prodigy, weren't so conventional with their well wishes. He supposed it had to do with the sudden mutual fascination that shifted into place after their unfinished match and during Tezuka's stay in Germany. But he was still too young then and much too disinterested in whatever those changes could have possibly meant.

Fuji's odd parting ensured that the changes wouldn't be forgotten though.

Somehow, he wasn't sure what happened exactly, he had found himself cornered by his smiling senpai in an empty locker room on the last day he practiced with the team. What happened there would be conveniently filed away into his brain for later (much later as it would turn out) inspection. He _would_ however, while waking up in the middle of the night with the continual traffic of San Francisco outside his room almost a year later, remember a hot mouth and something wet, warm, and firm teasing across the roof of his own. He would remember sharp eyes that thoroughly confused his prepubescent self and an equally ambiguous promise that had been murmured into his ear while his back was pressed against a wall.

"I'll be watching you Echizen."

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**End Prologue**  
Completed: 04/27/05


End file.
